EARTH, December 22nd, 2187
It was a dark and cold evening in the city of London. Snow was falling against the large pane of the window in Shepard's apartment. She had been surprised to receive a message from admiral Hackett outlining a lease to a small apartment that was fully furnished and outfitted for her after she had been discharged from the hospital.
She felt ridiculously helpless since she was still recovering from her injuries. Hackett had her hooked to a delivery system that she accessed by her new omni-tool to deliver food and other items that she may need. They were all military grade since production of most civilian items were still on hold due to construction on nearly 80% of all the infrastructures in London alone. The rest of the world was in similar disarray.
She had access to reports of the latest news, thanks to the apartment's vid set. It was a new experience for her to live entirely alone with no real work. Given, even if she had real work, she would be in no shape to perform it adequately. Her doctor made weekly visits to check on her progress. The range of motion in her limbs had improved and her pain was managed by pain relievers and exercises she was ordered to carry out on the daily.
Her burns were healed, and the scars licked her skin in a gruesome fashion. They spanned from the middle of her back and around her shoulder to her left collarbone. She had other scars on the left side of her face- ones that indicated her cheek had been cut against jagged concrete. They originated from the apple of her cheek and trailed to her ear.
She looked horrible, enough to the point where she was afraid to go out and be seen by the average person. Not to mention that she had become a little untoned as far as muscle was concerned, but she hadn't gained any weight. She had started getting back into fitness the other day- but she pulled something in her shoulder and the doctor wasn't happy about it. Dammit, she was Commander Shepard and she was concerned about people seeing her battle scars.
Shepard had tied her dark brown hair back- her green eyes were lost in the ecstasy of a light intoxication. She had always been a heavy weight when it came to any kind of alcohol, but just enough of it allowed her to relax. Classical Christmas music played in the background of the apartment. A couple of beer and hard cider bottles sat empty on the coffee table.
Thalassa laid on the couch, covering her face with one arm as she lazily hummed the tune of 'White Christmas'. The depression and mental instability had really set in and it continued to conquer her reasoning and will to live. Hackett's decision- or Anderson's request of discharging her from duty had ravaged her self-esteem. He had just been trying to help her out, but it also felt like she had stopped being useful to him.
She felt abandoned by her friends, left alone to grow old and have no purpose. Had they really thought she was dead, or did they abandon her on purpose? Had they just used her to get what they wanted? No, she knew that was not true by a longshot. Garrus, Tali, Liara- they would never have done that to her intentionally. Maybe she was just destined to die with no real purpose in the end. It was a fate she had refused to accept, yet she had no idea how to break free of the chains that bound her to it. Spending nearly 4 months in the hospital seemingly stripped her of all purpose, not to mention the release from the Alliance. And though she would deny it, her pride had taken a massive hit. The alcohol was just enough to take the edge off, but still left enough room for her mind to wander. As the night wore on, she continued to lounge in the numbness. The music had stopped playing at some point and the silence had coaxed her to drift in and out of a light slumber.
A loud doorbell rang and woke her with a start. She fell into the coffee table during her attempt to get up and grab the glock that was laying there. Bottles clattered noisily onto the glass surface and she hissed an unholy curse. She dismissed the noise and tried to go back to her couch, gun in hand.
Thud, thud, thud.
The banging ensued and accompanied the doorbell. She checked the time- 02:45 in the morning. That was not good for her visitor. Who could possibly be here so early in the morning? Maybe it was Hackett with news. Or maybe it was someone here to kill her. That was always a possibility. Shepard got up and muttered obscenities as she headed toward the front door.
She breathed deeply and her body filled with adrenaline when she thought of a threat being on the other side of that door. Shaking, she unlocked the door and opened it. She pointed her gun at the dark figure in the hallway, but everything halted when her eyes caught sight of the figure at the door. Her grip on the fully loaded glock loosened in her shock and it was knocked out of her hands with ease.